If there is one fatal flaw in Mitt Romney’s persona , it might be his apparent inability to connect with ordinary people. Even his fellow Republicans recognize this hang up. It probably is the natural byproduct of being a private equity guy. The whole business of leveraged buyouts, company downsizing, and corporate take-overs absolutely must affect its principal players. For in such an impersonal arena, cold detachment becomes a virtue. You are to a great extent what you do. If what you do demands putting thousands out of work, stripped of their benefits, is it any wonder that you develop a tin ear for the vicissitudes of the common man.
Is this the reason for Romney’s awkwardness on the stump? His wooden mannerisms? In any event his campaign team is making a concerted effort to humanize Mitt. To morph him into someone you’d like to have a beer with. So he sings off-key America the Beautiful, like he was at a country picnic, rubbing elbows with the hoi polloi, his tie off and his sleeves rolled up. So he stands in front of rows of rugged, begrimed coal miners in Kentucky and berates the president for disrespecting hard work. This oddly coming from a guy who pays other people to mow his lawn and unburden him of the perspiring , menial tasks of day-to-day life.
It’s Mitt feverishly trying to connect to the rest of us. Despite his enormous wealth. Despite the millions in his IRA. Despite the Swiss bank accounts. Despite his off-shore booty on the Cayman Islands. Despite the 13 percent marginal tax rate he admits to.
It’s Ann Romney sharing with America that Mitt irons his own clothes and shops for shirts at Costco. What’s next? Mitt picking shoes at DSW?
And now Mitt’s even telling lame jokes. In Michigan he reminded everyone that he was born in Harper Hospital in Detroit. No one—he quipped — has to ask about HIS birth certificate. The partisan crowd ate it up . Even a group of nuns sitting close by.
Well, sisters, I fervently pray to God that the last laugh will not be on America.
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